Who Needs a Motive?
by Violain.Mythoria
Summary: [Raito x L] A small interrogation for both parties involved.


AN: Another Death Note fanfic that came to me randomly. Just thought I'd share the crack with you all. I'd appreciate any reviews/comment/critcism as well.

Disclaimer: Death Note is not mine. Sorry if I tricked you all or led you to believe such a thing...

* * *

"Kira..." Every time. Every single time.

"I'm not him," I mutter into his ear before claiming his lips with my own in a frantic kiss. Still, his mouth is in pliant and warm against my own; also sticky with the amount of sweets he consumes by the hour. "I'm not Kira," I defend each time, telling him lies that are as sweet as his addiction, that I care for him and that he is needed, wanted. He has one person that he can depend on. I want him to depend on me, but I know he is not that foolish...

His ghostly cold fingers clutch into my naked back, digging and clawing making me question whether he is truly thinking, but he is L; he is always thinking. Thinking is as natural as breathing to both of us, which is why in order to stop him from thinking, I have to stop him from breathing first. The pain is to remind us both that we're still alive and we're still equals in this race of intellectuality and wit. His nails are ragged and bitten like those of an untamed animal, but I hardly mind. He's reacting and that's all that matters.

Pulling me closer, his expressive, delightful lips lay on my neck in silent apology for his animalistic actions. A contrasting, gentle motion compared to my damaged back.

He repeats the killer's name again, arching into me in a way that is most inhuman. Unsurprising, considering he does everything with such a peculiar eccentricity. His usual posture, dark eyes wide open, too dark for his too pale face, his body as dense as possible. I much prefer him sprawled out, limbs askew much like his current position...

Why does he have to be so sure, so bent on me being Kira? Even moreso, why is he so sympathetic to his blurted accusations? Perhaps he's only seeing what I'll do or say. Because everything depends on the effect, doesn't it?

I refuse his all too kind sympathies. I know he'll continue to call me Kira, open suspect or not. Biting his neck harshly, a small, wounded noise escapes him, hushed, as if we'll be caught. The cameras are on; they're always on, but I ignore them. If anyone sees, so be it. L is always the one to start such propositions. Stupid man. Stupid, fragile man.

"I can't help... I..." His voice is hushed, but more passionate than any other time, save for anything vital regarding the case.

When we climax, the only thing I see is him. His whole body twists at an even more strange and obscure angle, surely he would snap in two if he were not flesh and bone. Even that, I feel, is doubtful... Silently, his mouth forms Kira's name for the third time.

"Why do you say that?" I question afterwards, a somewhat stern tone in my voice. He knows what I am referring to. The genius L has to know. He remains quiet however, his eyes large and devoid, avoiding my own and trading my gaze for the ceiling. "Hey," I inquire again, my patience lacking this evening, but he cuts me off.

"While you might've fooled the others, I am not completely convinced, Yagami-kun," his voice is a strange drawl, one holding his usual emptiness, but a bit more satisfaction as well as amusement. Is it my anger that amuses him so? "And even if you are not Kira, the idea of it is very... Interesting, wouldn't you say?" His tone of amusement spreads to his face as his thumb meets his captivatingly animated lips, a gesture much like that of a child, or a madman. So many times, I've wanted to tear the digit from his mouth and kiss him until he couldn't breathe, until he is no longer a nuisance. His accustomed, almost fetal position would be coaxed into one of longevity in death.

"Interesting," I mumble softy, "so you still want me to be Kira, Ryuuzaki? Isn't that a bit sick?"

"On the contrary, Yagami-kun, I believe that it is quite healthy and justifiable," he refutes, but I fall short of seeing his point. "Someone such as yourself being Kira provides a challenge for me. A greater challenge than I could ever ask for. You, a possible intellectual equal being the killer of killers... Indeed, interesting."

"Is that why all of this started? Or is it another psychoanalysis in determining whether I am Kira or not?" His form of thoughtfulness plagues him once more.

"But I am killing two birds with one stone. Working together on such a case, we are merely finding ways to pass the time. Of course, there is also the advantage of examining the one I believe to be the number one suspect on another level."

"Yes, you are sick."

"I'm not saying that Yagami-kun himself is unattractive. After all, you have the famous Amane-san, and there is nothing physically revolting about you."

"Thanks," I reply dryly at his form of flattery and the mentioning of Misa. Such replies from him always force my jaw to close tightly in annoyance.

"What I question are Yagami-kun's motives." Spoken like a true detective. His large, black eyes meet mine for the first time since we've started talking. They show no sign of what he is really thinking, they never do, but it is apparent that he is searching me for any reaction, favorable or unfavorable. No matter how intelligent or manipulative his words may be, I will not allow my mask, my character to fall even the slightest.

"My motives... When did I need one?" Safe, but partially true. We do not trust each other any more than we did. Isn't it natural to be somewhat curious towards another being similar to oneself.

Not that I am at all like him... Intelligence. It is all intelligence.

"Yes, well," he begins, chewing on his thumb again carelessly. "If you simply felt the urge to partake in sex, why not Misa-san? Surely she would've been more than willing," he trails off, leaving me to wonder momentarily if the insult towards Misa was purposeful or not. Probably.

Releasing an unamused laugh towards his fully alert eyes, I, myself shift to face the ceiling. "Maybe I'm a little sick as well," I breathe; although the answer is more towards myself that for the detective.

_'I am sick,'_ I deduce, mind working like clockwork to prove my unsurely spoken, but mentally known point. The fascination I hold for the obscure man beside me, his body, movements, and being... While this curiosity is particularly strong, stronger than anything I've ever learned about in my life, my desire to kill him is ten, no, ten million times stronger. The fragile, but consuming vessel he lives in is nothing compared to the disguised, and harmful mind beneath it. God, how I want him dead. I want this threat, this possible equal to die slowly and painfully. Yes, to Ryuuzaki my motives may be unclear and contain nothing but enigma or suspicion, but to me they are most clear and believable.

"Such a reply moves you up to seventy-two percent, Raito-kun," he replies in a voice that is all too sweet.


End file.
